


Big Game Hunting

by SweetMrVitriol



Series: Kings of New Orleans [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cannibalism, Food, Gen, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Murder, Trans Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetMrVitriol/pseuds/SweetMrVitriol
Summary: Everyone had their food ritual and Alastor was no exception. His planning was meticulous as he organized around the weather, picked the music and of course the ever important cut of meat. The man was already small, it was clear he did not eat enough, but he wanted to truly be starving for his meal, like he earned it, like a true predator.
Series: Kings of New Orleans [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817512
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	1. Wild Pig

Everyone had their food ritual and Alastor was no exception. His planning was meticulous as he organized around the weather, picked the music and of course the ever important cut of meat. The man was already small, it was clear he did not eat enough, but he wanted to truly be starving for his meal, like he earned it, like a true predator. 

The skinny man’s clothing and bag were soaked through already as he stood in the pouring rain in the twilight, gazing down the road. He had not planned for this but he chose to stick to the rest of his plan. Any moment now his prey would come down the road and he would be ready. Alastor was almost giddy with anticipation as he brushed his long curls from his face and backed off the road right behind a tree. 

A car came down the road and stopped just before the tree, gravel rocks rolling out from under the tires as the wheels turned. The car pulled into the driveway and the engine stopped. The driver’s door opened and a soft grunt could be heard as the individual in the car strained to lift themselves up out of the car. The man was a bit on the chubbier side, rosy cheeked from drink, his shirt was already undone exposing his white undershirt underneath as he stumbled forward a few steps. He pushed the car door closed and stumbled to his small home. 

Alastor silently walked toward the man and then behind him, watching him with a hungry gaze as the man fiddled with his keys and pushed his way inside, grumbling about how he had to fix the lock. He swung the door closed but the skinny hunter was able to wedge his foot between the door and the frame and then slide in. Alastor quickly closed and locked the door, darting into the room just as the man turned around to lock the door, finding it already was. He stumbled back a bit and then turned around, confused. 

“Hello, Paul.” Lightening flashed into the living room, illuminating Alastor’s hollow cheeks, deep set gaze and soaking loose curls.

The man jumped, not too drunk to be unphased, “you!” He gasped. “Freak!” The man turned to pick up the phone receiver and tried to dial for the police. 

“Now, now, Paul,” Alastor dropped his bag and moved close to him, “no need for name calling, hm?” He bent down, grabbing the handle of a blade he hid in his boot. In a swift movement he cut along the back of the larger man’s ankles, severing his Achilles tendons. The man shrieked in agony and immediately crumpled to the floor. His howls continued as Alastor pushed him onto his back, digging the heel of his boot into the meaty wrist of the other to prevent the nearest hand to him from grabbing. 

Paul winced and stared up at him, “what do you want with me you skinny freak?!”

“Surely not to hear you speak more,” ‘Not’ was punctuated by a well aimed stab to the shoulder joint, he hit bone, earning him a another scream from Paul. Alastor withdrew the knife and cut the undershirt open, looking at the barrel-like torso underneath. By now Paul was crying, messily.

“Please please….why? Don’t do….this!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes as Paul tried to reach with his functional arm to touch the wound in his shoulder but the hand was still caught under Alastor’s heel. The man under him did not have the upper body strength to even displace him at this point and it gave him a thrill. He lifted his foot and roughly stomped on the hand against the hardwood floor. Sickening pops could be heard as several of Paul’s fingers dislocated from his hand. 

“That’ll keep you occupied, my friend!” The skinny man mumbled and then kneeled beside his large, subdued prey. Paul was still begging him but incoherent now. Alastor assumed between the liquor, pain and blood loss his head was swimming in a mix of coping euphoria and agony. To have him in this state was perfect for his purposes. 

He lifted his blade up and tested it to see if it was sharpened to his liking, after all, precision butchering came from a carefully cared for blade. Yes, but just barely, perhaps a bit duller today was good for this particular animal. 

“Paul, you still with me?” He looked over at the much larger man whose head was lolling a bit.

“Please….” He whispered. 

“Good, do you know my name, Paul?” Alastor asked as he wiped the blade off with a handkerchief. 

“Your name…it’s….freak….you’re that pansy LeBlanc boy, yeah?”

“My name is Alastor, Paul, and you see, I really don’t appreciate these insults,” He said with a sigh as he repositioned himself to lean over the other.

Your mother….she’s a fuckin’ whhhhore!” Paul leaned up with wobbly aggression and spat at him. 

Alastor clenched his teeth and in a fluid motion he sliced all the way around from under the large man’s jaw, slightly downward across his throat and back up under the other side of his jaw. Paul’s eyes bulged out and he rasped, blood poured from his throat and Alastor took the moment of shock to lean down to look at Paul’s in the dim light from the storm cloud obstructed moon that shone in from outside, still some life left in those beady little eyes.

Alastor’s voice was almost a whisper, “you live like a pig, you die like a pig, you get consumed, like a pig, except you, Mister Paul, you are….a loathsome human. To truly compare you to a pig would be impolite..” 

Paul sputtered a bit and Alastor just rolled his eyes. “Still trying to speak?” He stood up and went to the kitchen. He was used to working in the dark so he turned on no lights. Alstor was able to get a bowl and filled it with water, what took him longer was locating a clean towel. When both had been located he came back to the now dead Paul and kneeled by him. The thin man set the bowl and towel down carefully before undoing the other’s pants just to give him more carving space. 

Alastor began by washing off the front of the whole torso, top to bottom. He scrubbed lightly using the towel and water. Then he washed off the blade and set aside the towel. He leaned over the man again and started to cut away just at his skin, making a path to peel back the flesh to gaze on the muscle and fat and bone underneath. This was the only way to make accurate cuts of meat.

As he finished cutting through the thick flesh and began to carefully peel it back using a firm grip from his hand and the knife carefully loosing soft connective tissues underneath as needed he noted how hungry he really was. Alastor gazed down now at the exposed muscle and fat tissues and saw meat that would last him quite a few meals. Normally he worked so quickly he only took a portion that he needed for one or two meals but tonight he would take his time and break down the full torso. 

The hunter worked quickly still so nothing would go bad as he did and he wrapped everything up in butcher paper organized by meat type. Once he washed his hands he labeled each package and placed them all into his bag. He’d already thoroughly wiped down his blade and slid it back into the sheath in his boot.

By now it was the early hours of the morning and he had to make the long trek home, but it was well worth it and he knew exactly what he was going to do with the fattier meat. A smile came to his face. 

Alastor returned to the home he shared with his mother. She had already begun her early morning shift at one of the local inns so he was alone. Exhaustion and soreness screamed through his body but he pushed himself to quickly store the meat in his fridge. He kept the fatty cuts within their wrapping in a separate pile in the fridge and got a large stew pot out and pan out from their storage space under the counter. He took a quick shower and then went to bed. 

The hunter woke several hours later, just in time to start lunch. He changed and then went into the kitchen. Starting the heat under both he gathered the ingredients he wanted to use, especially excited because he had freshly picked vegetables and herbs waiting. This would be truly special. 

He started by searing the meat with some salt on either side until the fat had been rendered down a bit. He’d keep that grease for later. The hunter put the meat at the bottom of the pot after it had been prepared, then on top he placed cut up onion, cut up carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, home dried and ground garlic, some fresh and dried chili and his personal blend of Herbs De Provence. After topping all this with a rich homemade stock he had left over from several days ago he waited for it all to start to simmer. Alastor reduced the heat, covered it and set his egg timer for two hours. He periodically checked the stew as it cooked, adjusting the seasonings and stirring. He spent the rest of the time as he waited cleaning the home and making it look nice. 

The timer went off and he knew his mother would be coming in through that door any minute so he set the table and put stew in two bowls, setting them at the two placemats on the table. Alastor also set out lemonade, normally he did this at night so he had wine but this would be the first time he was sharing a kill with his mother. Meat was meat, she knew he hunted and she always asked that if he got something bigger than a small bird or rabbit that he bring home what he could. 

He’d been hunting big game for a few months now and since he’d gotten the routine down so well it was only fair he shared finally. She just could never ever know just where this meat came from. The hunter knew his mother would be devastated if she found out her mild mannered son was actually a killer. Alastor saw it as making these people more useful in death than they ever were in life, they couldn’t afford meat much, he felt they deserved it more than those he dined on. 

Alastor sat, deep in thought as he remembered all the times he would come home with the cash from the wallet off a kill and gave it to his mother. She would ask where he got it and he would lie and say the radio station was so impressed with his nighttime news show that they gave him a raise. This time he had way more than he’d ever had before, Paul had $500 on his person. He’d put it in an envelop and placed it right above this mother’s bowl on the table. He’d lie, say it was savings.

The door opened and closed and he heard his mother walking in, setting her bag down. Lunch was the only meal they really got to share with each other before she had to go to sleep and he would have to get ready and go to his shift at the station. Alastor knew she cherished these times, as did he. 

“Something smells wonderful!” She came into the kitchen, “oh look at you, and look at this place! You cleaned and cooked.” 

Alastor smiled at his mother and nodded, “I’m so happy to, mother.” He stood and pulled out the chair for her. 

“A gentleman as always,” she kissed his forehead and sat. 

He sat back down, “I hope you like it, I brought home a wild pig, was just roaming around!” 

His mother smiled and took a taste, then set her spoon down, “Al, it’s delicious, you floor me every time with your cooking, I wish you’d consider starting up a restaurant!”

Alastor almost choked on his as he started eating, feeding the whole town themselves? They’d run out of meat.


	2. Alligator

The next several days were nothing short of perfect. Alastor’s mother had pleasant shifts at work, no more bigoted, drunkard Paul yelling awful things and they had more than enough money. Alastor had gone shopping with some of the stolen money to get himself much needed new clothing and fresher ingredients for cooking. His mother got the rest for rent and her own needs as she saw fit. 

Alastor had a pleasant evening out for the first time in a long time. One of his favorite places to be, a bar that tended to be more inviting to individuals considered eccentric. It was mostly just a great hot spot for gay men to safely meet and have pleasant evenings out. Alastor enjoyed going for the liquor. He’d met a charming new acquaintance but it had been briefly tainted by Paul’s son Jon who rudely interrupted, trying to pick him up. The hunter might have lost his temper because the next evening Jon had come to harass Alastor after work. 

“That comment!” Jon pushed Alastor up against the wall, almost spitting with his rage, “that comment you KNOW where he is! Asking how he is like that, taunting me! Where’s my father you nasty little freak!” 

Alastor glared at the larger man who had him pinned to the wall, “something happened to Paul?” 

The furious man pulled back and swung a punch at Alastor’s face, causing him to hit the back of his head on the wall, blacking out and slumping to the ground. 

Jon looked around, wiping his hand off and then ran, leaving Alastor in a heap with a bleeding headwound. 

Alastor had been found some time later by a family friend and was driven home and tended to by the local family physician who determined he was concussion free and would be fine . His mother was already at work so there was no reason to worry her. Alastor was thankful it was his day off the following day so that he could recuperate and plan accordingly, after all, meat reserves were running low after all. He slept through until the later evening, knowing his mother would already be asleep again until her early morning shift. 

The hunter packed his bag with wrapping materials, some pure grain alcohol for field cleaning and some rags. He knew exactly where Jon would be this evening having scoped out where the man liked to go spend his Friday nights. 

Every Friday off in a large mansion built right off the swamplands was a party thrown by one of the wealthiest families in the area. Liquor and drugs flowed, sex workers and performers earned their best money at these parties and it was all of course catered by the already overworked servants and local restaurateurs. Jon always went and enjoyed his drugs and liquor before staying after hours for the poorly kept secret sex-filled after party that would happen when the far less fashionable crowds left. 

It had taken Alastor about 30 minutes to make his way to the location. He had put on his best suit and put on his mother’s sun hat to cover his head wound and face in general before going on to search for Jon. His prey was telling some story about a far fetched business deal he secured in New York to a group of women who were definitely buying it. Alastor rolled his eyes and then pulled aside one of the man carrying a tray of drinks. 

He slid money into the man’s upper suit pocket, “fifty now if you bring this note to that man,” he pointed to Jon, “fifty later after I’ve gotten my chance to speak to him.” 

“What are you doing here?” The man whispered back, eying the sunhat with an arched brow, trying to see under it. 

“Helping my mama out, don’t start with me right now, go on.” Alastor whispered back, lowering his head more. 

The server nodded, “be safe…heard he can get mean.” He rushed off to serve the drinks, Jon’s with the note under the glass. 

Jon picked his up and the note, sipping first from the glass of bubbly liquid, finest imported champagne supposedly. He opened the note and read over it, a grin came across his lips. Alastor had written the note in the most obnoxious script he could, it was a beckoning from a mystery woman, flirty and vapid like Jon would appreciate. “If you excuse me ladies, I have a little meeting to attend out by the docks,” He stood and downed the rest of the champagne before he made his way outside. 

Alastor had already moved to hide behind some trees by the docks to wait for Jon. He’d have to be quicker than he was with Jon’s father, Paul. His heart sped up as he saw Jon who was taller than him but also thin. He wore a fine suit, his shoes were the best money could buy. Alastor hated him for how he had so much and gave so little to the world, not even in terms of money but in soul. This was a man who had everything and wanted more. He gave no intellectual qualities to the world, he hardly even gave back in labor either. 

“I’m here, sweetheart! Where’re you?” Jon called, slurring and stumbling. 

Alastor turned and threw his voice toward the water, a falsetto echoing back at Jon, “over here~” 

Jon turned to the water and looked around, “You’re swimming in the swamp, honey? Little dark, huh?” He started taking off his clothes. 

This was too easy. Alastor moved quickly from the trees and up behind Jon, slitting his throat in one fluid motion as he was undoing his vest. The blood sprayed out as Jon turned to face his assailant, spattering half of the other man in his high pressured blood and moments later dropped dead. The hunter would have liked to draw it out more but he saw the alligators swimming closer. “You wait your turn,” he glared at them knowing that would be worthless so he dragged the body from the water as far as he could and cut off the clothes. The gators were inspiration for him so he butchered this man like a good alligator filet for frying, quickly wrapping up the leaner meat in the butcher paper and then stripping the body. 

Alastor was sure to grab the man’s wallet and smaller valuables from his pockets. He opened the wallet and took out a thick wad of cash, there had to be close to one thousand on this man’s person. The hunter wondered why all these wealthy men carried around so much but he remembered it was likely to handle any of the indulgences they purchased alongside the accommodations for those indulgences. 

He pushed the rest of the body into the water, it wouldn’t be very tempting for alligators due to the size but perhaps the other animals in the water and nearby would enjoy it he figured. To his surprise though the alligators that had been growing nearer and watching for any movement in the water went wild as the body entered the water. Alastor watched with awe as a grin crept onto his face. He watched and time stood still, the full moon reflecting over the water as bones and flesh were snapped and ripped and Jon, son of Paul, was no more. 

He looked down at himself finally, remembering he owed the server inside another $50. Alastor quickly changed out of his blood soaked suit and into his street clothes before creeping back toward the house, carrying his bag full of his fresh kill. The hunter whistled over to the server from the window in the kitchen. The man jumped a bit. “Thanks for your help, he put a $100 bill on the sill.” 

The man’s eyes bugged out, “who are you?” Alastor was careful to keep his face covered with the brim of his sun hat. “Don’t worry about it, enjoy your night.” He quickly said and then ran off into the night. The man laughed a bit, thinking it was a ridiculous sight, a well dressed man in a pink sun hat with a big flower on it running off into the night. He didn’t care what the other had done, the 100 covered it and he’d be tight lipped.

Alastor had made it back to his mother’s house and quickly put the fresh meat in the fridge before moving to shower, pulling his bag in the bathroom with him so in case his mother woke she wouldn’t find anything she wasn’t supposed to. It was hard enough getting cuts off Jon that would be passable as fresh gator meat, he didn’t want to explain why his best church clothes were covered in blood. He sighed under the warm water, running his hands over his body and pausing at his chest. There were things he wanted to change badly about himself but for now it was just a quiet secret between him and his mother and the closest family friends, to all the others he’d always been a boy. Although it wasn’t a lie that he’d always been a boy but more a matter of presentation. 

Two lumps of flesh existed where he wanted flatness, he wished some creature could cut them off him, consume them away forever, he’d give anything for that. Before he knew it, Alastor’s tears began mingling with the water in the shower. All these wealthy people with their power and comforts, they had enough money to pay the Lady Death herself to take someone else in their place but Alastor couldn’t even feel comfortable in his own skin. His shoulders shook as he turned off the water and he took a moment to steady himself. “I just want to provide for my family and be myself,” he murmured, choking back a sob, “….who do I pray to…?” Alastor stumbled out of the shower and slumped to his knees, burying his face in his hands and crying. 

He woke hours later to his mother knocking on the bathroom door, “honey, are you alright?”

“Yes, mama,” he quickly wrapped a bandage around his chest tightly and pulled on clothes. “I’m sorry I’ll be right out.”

“I’m leaving for work, honey, you sure you’re okay?” She replied. 

“Yes, mama, I’ll have lunch for you when you’re back, I’m making alligator,” He said with a smile, looking into the mirror as he fixed his hair, applying a thick leave in conditioner to his curls, and twisting his fingers throughout. If he didn’t she’d scold him for neglecting himself, he didn’t want to disappoint. 

“You spoil me, son,” She said with affection before she could be heard leaving. 

Alastor left the bathroom and took care of the blood soaked clothes before getting all the ingredients together for the fried “gator” recipe he was making. He was full of raw emotion but he had to push on for his mother, the only family he truly had. It was fuel for his cooking, he put so much passion into it. By the time his mother came home he had crispy buttermilk fried alligator on the table with horseradish potato salad and a side of flavorful dipping sauce. He poured some lemonade for them both as his mother sat at the table, 

“I won some money, ma,” he sat down and slid an envelope over to her. He kept $200 of the $900 Jon was carrying. “$700, enough for some repairs for the house, and maybe you can get that dress you’ve been eying.”

She smiled, “This is sweet but you better not be gambling.” 

“Oh, no, of course not, nothing like that. Just a prize from a party I went to the other night, you know how they have competitions sometimes,” Alastor shrugged a bit with a smile. 

His mother bit into some of the fried gator, “‘course, sweetheart….” 

He watched her, smiling too still. 

“As always…incredible, my boy,” She smiled at him. 

“Thanks, mama, I’m glad you like it.”

“I still wish you’d consider a cooking professionally, Sammy could get you a spot at his diner. Your cooking is really to die for.”

“Maybe so, but I like it at the radio station, still, I’ll think on it,” Alastor smiled a bit, she really had no idea.


End file.
